


Memorial

by hanyou_elf



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here rests in honored glory an American Soldier known but to God.</p><p>Steve visits Arlington's Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in lieu of visting the tombs of those he's lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memorial

_"Here lies in honored glory an American Soldier known but to God."_

Steve stood silent in his updated dress uniform. His hat was held gently in his giant left hand, his right hand rested against the cool marble of the bone white monument. With calloused fingertips he silently traced out the elegantly scrawled words. 

A marine stood behind him at parade rest, his hands fisted together at the small of his back. The black lines of his dress uniform were a stark contrast to the green of the cemetery and the white of the monument. Further still, in a suit too expensive and tailored perfectly for his lean form, Tony Stark leaned on a gaudy crimson cane and waited. He was much more relaxed, left hand buried in his pants pocket as he waited for Steve. 

There was a monument dedicated to him and his Commandos. He’d decided against resurrection and had had an identity fabricated for him. It was easier for himself, for everyone involved. And much less painful. 

But a new identity didn’t kill the desire to remember those he’d known so well that were long gone. For everything, he’d been very lucky.

He couldn’t make it to everyone’s graves, even with Tony’s considerable wealth and unusual willingness to give Steve everything for today. Bucky didn’t even have an empty tomb. Peggy had been buried in England. Dernier was buried in France with Gabe. Dumdum was in a nursing home and Morita had gone missing during Vietnam. And Falsworth had just left one day from home and had never come home.

And himself, a living relic from a time long gone with an empty tomb somewhere in New York and a monument in DC. He felt cynical, but he regretted not being with his men through the end of the war. He felt unlucky to have survived as unscathed when everyone else had given everything. 

He took two steps forward and bowed his head, pressing his forehead against the cool marble. He didn’t care that it messed up his perfectly combed and parted hair. Steve didn’t care that the marble was pitted and dug painfully into the thin skin of his forehead. All he knew was that in this moment, with the early summer sun shining warmly down upon him and the heat of the day hugging him tight, was that he was lonely. 

Steve closed his eyes and breathed out a gust of air as tears slid down his cheeks. He missed their love of life and dirty mouths. He missed the familiarity of the men he’d known, the life he’d been offered and unable to fill. 

He slid his fingers over the word soldier and remembered how it had felt, that early autumn evening when Dr. Erskine had given him the chance that he’d needed. The opportunity. And it had put him in a new century. It had cost him Bucky and his men. Everything. 

“Captain Rogers,” the marine called softly, breaking him from his quiet moment of reflection. “Sir, I’m afraid it’s been fifteen minutes. I’m going to have to ask you to step back.” 

Steve slid his hands over the inscription and he stepped back. With a shaking hand, he wiped at the tears that slid slowly down his cheeks before he managed to compose himself. He stepped back two more steps and turned crisply on the ball of his foot. He nodded at the marine before he strode away, fixing the cap as he went. 

Tony had waited patiently for him, his arm stiff on the handle of the cane, his knees trembling with the effort of standing and his handsome face too pale beneath the dark facial hair. He’d gotten hurt the day before, but was too stubborn to do what was good for him. “You okay, Steve?” he asked, his voice taut with the strain of standing and hiding the pain. 

He threaded the fingers of his left with Tony’s hesitantly offered right. Squeezing gently, he gave a small smile and nodded slowly.

**Author's Note:**

> i have never been to Arlington's memorial. i used extensive research and a little imagination. i hope you'll forgive me for liberties with monuments!


End file.
